A sense of scarcity narrows our focus and compels us to act with unusual intentionality.

Take a simple example: you’re driving along and suddenly notice that you’re hitting red on your petrol gauge. In fact, you’ve been particularly lax and it’s worse; you’re right at the bottom of the lower bound of the petrol gauge. If you’re lucky, you figure you have two or three miles before the car leaves you hanging.

Suddenly, you’re more conscious of what gear you’re in, how fast you’re driving, and you’re weighing up possible routes to the nearest petrol station at the same time. This might be the most purposeful driving you’ve done in months.

Scarcity is a constraint. And while it can undoubtedly be used to manipulate us in the world, what if we could leverage it in our favour in the creative process?

I think this is a large part of why I’m in no rush to dismiss the value of analogue technologies, such as film stock and magnetic tape. When I photograph on an (overly) expensive roll of film which is limited to 36 exposure, the scarcity changes how I shoot – most notably, how often I shoot – and, therefore, it changes what I shoot.

The scarcity drives us to decisiveness and leaves its echoes in the outcome.

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The Thoughts of Others

“The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.” – Orson Welles